


home amongst the stars

by morthael



Series: stars [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Enthusiastic Consent, Friends to Lovers, Hot Springs, M/M, Minor Allura/Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Post-Season/Series 07, Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Large Cock, Shiro is terrible at communication, Shiro's Illness, Space Adventure, The Black Paladins (PLURAL)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26321410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morthael/pseuds/morthael
Summary: “I appreciate this, Keith,” Shiro said earnestly. “I really do. I like that you’re taking me out into space. One final ride before we come back down to Earth. But I’m – ”Keith ignored that last sentence. “Who saidI’mtaking you? I’m co-piloting.”Shiro blinked. “This is Black,” he said slowly, like Keith was being particularly dense. “Your Lion?”“She’s yours too.”After Sendak's invasion, Keith takes Shiro on a journey to be healed.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: stars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969696
Comments: 36
Kudos: 182





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey I'm 3 years late to the party and I'm emotional about these losers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith takes Shiro to be healed.

After the battle, Keith found himself faced with an entirely new type of battle – one more alien than anything the last three years could have prepared him for, which, he thought grumpily, pushing a sweaty strand of hair behind his ear, was ironic now that they were back on Earth. His under suit was sticking to him uncomfortably in the desert heat, and his Paladin armour gleamed an offensive white in the midday sun.

Next to him, the other Paladins looked cool and collected – especially Lance, who was hefting a block of shattered concrete while grinning unabashedly at the gaggle of reporters nearby. “Lotta showbiz practice in space,” Lance had said earlier in the day. Coran had tugged on his moustache uncomfortably. Allura had given Coran a withering look, and then had primly plucked a boulder about the size of Keith’s hoverbike out of the wreckage and had thrown it into the recovery truck.

The Paladins were the face of the reconstruction effort, following Sendak’s invasion of the planet, and progress had been steady over the last month – though it would have been faster, Keith griped internally, if they were allowed to spend more time in Voltron actually contributing to the efforts, and not posing for the god damn cameras.

“It’s good for morale,” Shiro had reminded him at the time.

He blew out a sigh, wiping his forehead with the back of his gloved hand, and tramped down the pile of debris he had been working on. “I’m taking a break,” he announced to Pidge, who was crouched at the base of the pile and holding a scanner over something she had picked up out of the wreckage. “Where’s Shiro? I saw him out here today.”

Pidge peered up at him. “Back at the Atlas, I think,” she said. She waved the scanner around. “Dad mentioned he needed Shiro back to help test some modifications he made, but that was hours ago.”

Keith nodded absently, even as his mouth thinned to a firm line. He knew Shiro was busy – they all had been – but it had been a long month, in which he’d only seen Shiro a handful of times, and not one moment where they had been alone. He’d started seeing him even less once the Garrison had discovered just how integral Shiro was to the Atlas – its transformation had been integral to the rebuilding of the neighbouring Plaht City.

It was irritating, and, although it wasn’t very fair, Keith felt the tiniest nudge of resentment rattle shallowly against his ribcage. Not at Shiro, but at the situation they found themselves in. 

Perhaps foolishly, he had thought that once it was all over, they’d all be able to sit down and finally _relax_ , finally have a moment to say more than five words in passing to each other. Between the Blades, the Castle’s destruction, and that long, dark journey back to Earth, he’d felt – not alone, but maybe, probably lonely, the pressure of an intergalactic war and the weight of reluctant leadership grinding him down. He was tired, and he’d thought it was over, and after an age of losing Shiro, finding him, and losing him again, he was justifiably sullen.

His expression must have looked particularly stormy, because Pidge loosened herself from her crouch, touching her fingers briefly to Keith’s arm – barely a graze. He looked down at her, surprised. “Go drag ‘im out of hiding,” she said, grinning. “I’ll keep the paparazzi at bay while you’re gone.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Or I’ll get Lance to do that,” she amended.

“Thanks, Pidge,” Keith said, grateful for the reprieve. _Hiding, huh?_

*

_Hiding,_ Keith had to conclude, after being given the run-around for the fourth time by yet another Garrison officer. The one time he could wiggle out of his responsibilities, and Shiro was nowhere to be found. His mouth twisted in a scowl.

A shaggy head of hair entered the corridor, door closing automatically behind him with a hiss.

“Matt!” Matt looked up in surprise as Keith hurried down the corridor. “Matt. Have you seen Shiro?”

“He had a meeting with Dad and me earlier today,” Matt said, his surprise fading away despite having witnessed Keith practically sprint down the sterile hallway, dust flying from his hair and armour with every step. “What’s up? Someone need him?”

“No.” Keith frowned. “No one needs him right now. I was just looking for him.” He wished it wasn’t automatic that Shiro was associated with responsibility.

Matt frowned then as well, echoing Keith’s expression. “Well,” he said slowly, “He mentioned he had some work to do after our meeting.” He hesitated.

“Yeah?”

“I think he’s, like, got some way of making his room impossible to find,” Matt said finally. “I went to the Captain’s quarters the other day, and it was like it never existed.”

Keith blinked owlishly, and Matt sighed. “You know, you’ve seen the Atlas transform into a giant lady robot. Is it so surprising the rooms can move around too, y’know?”

“Why would he do that?”

“Maybe he’s busy,” Matt offered, but he didn’t seem like he was convinced by his own words.

*

Keith finally found him, half an hour later, the room labelled ‘CAPTAIN’ and ‘TAKASHI SHIROGANE’ shunted into the furthest, dustiest corner of the ship. By that time, the Paladins were probably already cleaning up, and he mentally resigned himself to getting an earful later for shirking his duties.

He slapped the door access with some heat, strode purposefully into the room, and then stopped short.

The room was modestly sized, with a tall ceiling that absolutely looked incongruous with the shape of the ship’s hull that Keith _knew_ was sloped, but he didn’t have time to continue pondering the architecture of the Atlas as he spotted movement to the left.

Shiro was tucked into an alcove of the room, hunched over a datapad that was grasped loosely between the fingers of his prosthetic. His other hand drummed on the table idly. He wasn’t wearing his Garrison jacket – just the white undershirt, and the firm line of his back tensed and flexed as he turned towards Keith’s intrusion.

He looked pristine – not a silvery strand of hair out of place, nor a single crease in what looked like a freshly laundered shirt. Practically perfect, in comparison to Keith, who was still standing in the doorway, streaked with dust and dirt. The heat of the desert was gone, but in the cool interior of the Atlas, Keith felt sweaty and uncomfortably clammy.

“Keith,” Shiro said, standing up, and Keith realised that he had been staring for far too long.

“Where have you been,” he blurted out, and immediately winced. Not the tone he had been going for. “I haven’t seen you in ages,” he tried again. Better, he thought.

Shiro was smiling, but his smile dimmed a little at Keith’s words.

“Yeah,” Shiro said quietly. He ran a hand through closely shorn hair. “I’ve been busy. The people need leadership and stability, most of all now, and with the Atlas, I’m…”

Keith scowled mulishly. “You need to take a break,” he argued. “What are you even doing now? Matt said you disappeared right after your meeting.”

Keith eyed Shiro critically as he glanced down at his pad. At first glance, Shiro had looked fine, fresh, but a closer examination revealed quiet exhaustion lining his eyes. 

“Mostly approving Atlas supply runs to Garrison bases over the next week or so,” Shiro admitted.

Keith shuffled his feet. Some dust flaked off his boots and landed in a sad pile on the shiny floor. “Is that why you ditched the photo op today?” he asked, feeling stupid. _Or are you avoiding us?_ Shiro laughed, but the tiredness didn’t leave his eyes.

“I’ll leave that to you and the rest of the Paladins,” he said, taking a few steps to bridge the gap between them. “Besides,” his human hand flicked out, slow enough for Keith to draw back. Keith didn’t move. The fingers brushed at his forehead, and came away sooty black. “I think I prefer it on the Atlas, actually.” A teasing lilt to his voice, now.

Keith wiped self-consciously at his forehead. When had that gotten there? “You’re one of us, Shiro,” he argued, determinedly staring up at him. “Don’t talk like you’re not.”

Shiro’s words made the bud of worry in his chest bloom outwards. Keith tried to clamp it down. It was like there was a distance now, in the way there hadn’t been before – the Paladins, and Shiro. _Us_ , and _him,_ and not _us_. “You know that, right?”

The smile was on Shiro’s face again. It looked fake. “I know,” he said. “Don’t worry about me. It’ll all settle down soon, I promise.”

“You can share anything with me, Shiro,” Keith tried again.

Smiling, Shiro shook his head. His arm came up, clasping Keith’s shoulder. Without meaning to, Keith’s traitorous feet allowed him to be led back outside, guided by a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me,” Shiro said again, and then the door closed between them.

Keith’s hands clenched, thumb dragging harshly against his knuckle.

*

As hot as the day had been, it faded into a balmy afternoon as shadows lengthened across the desert’s canyons. The sun was starting to set, and the beginnings of an evening breeze drifted across where Keith was perched atop the Black Lion’s paw.

He heard footsteps, muffled slightly by the ever-present dust. Two sets of footsteps.

“Hey, Keith,” Lance called out. Allura was ambling along beside him, hair finally loose after a hard day’s work. Keith waved half-heartedly.

“Lance was upset that you left your duties as Black Paladin today,” Allura informed him, but the smile curving her mouth gave away the lie.

Lance pulled a face regardless. “Not that I mind you giving up the spotlight,” he said, plopping himself straight onto the sun-baked ground, “And it was for a greater cause – Operation Free Shiro!”

“Operation Free Shiro?”

Allura settled down next to Lance, and set down something on the ground – a basket, Keith realised, which she and Lance had been holding together as they walked.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that Shiro has been…a little distant, since everything settled down,” she said. “We had hoped that you might have talked to him today.” She plucked items out of the basket – food and drink, probably Hunk’s doing. She tossed a bottle – looked like juice – to Keith, who caught it gratefully.

“I did,” he said. He busied himself cracking open the lid and downed a gulp. “He’s real busy.”

“What, and not enough time to talk to any one of us?” Lance demanded. Keith looked away. “You don’t believe that at all, I know you don’t.”

“He’s busy,” Keith repeated, the words sounding hollow to himself.

“Keith…” Lance started, and drifted off. He shared a meaningful look with Allura, but Keith was too morose to try and decipher what it could have meant. “You know Shiro best. You’ve known him the longest, since before everything happened. I know he doesn’t like saying stuff if it’ll worry people. I – I know that for sure, that I could’ve been a better support for him, in the past.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker. “S’pose I’m just saying, if anyone could get something out of Shiro, it would be you. We’re worried – we’re all worried about him.”

Allura laid a hand on Lance’s knee, and he twisted to look at her, flushing softly. Keith watched them a little covetously, something twisting slightly in his stomach. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Does seem like he’s hiding something,” he admitted. “I wasn’t in his room for a few minutes before he was trying to kick me out.” He tried to bite back the sourness that drifted into his voice.

“We know Shiro does not like worrying us,” Allura mused quietly. “Perhaps, do you think there is something that there we _should_ be worried about?”

Keith tensed. _No_ , his mind denied, there shouldn’t be any reason to worry – the war was over, they’d won, what could possibly be wrong?

Then, unbidden, he thought back to that final, terrifying moment, where Shiro had been weakly splayed on the hard ground, Sendak standing above him, dark and triumphant, and he had been in Black, panic pounding in his blood as he slipped into a frantic freefall –

He thought of Shiro’s face earlier in the day, tight and closed off in a way that he hadn’t seen in years. Since –

The bottle fell from Keith’s fingers with a soft thud as he stood abruptly. The liquid inside glugged sluggishly, wetting the sand as it emptied.

“I have to go,” Keith said, and even though the air was warm, he felt ice in his core.

*

The Atlas was still quietly thrumming with energy as Keith crept aboard again, lights on and personnel still at work. Shiro’s room was still tucked away in its far-flung corner, to Keith’s relief, and he palmed open the door without any fanfare.

“Shiro?” he called as he stepped inside. He frowned; the interior was dark. Was Shiro sleeping?

A rustle of movement caught Keith’s attention – he was already flicking the lights on as he moved towards it.

It was Shiro – who was in that same undershirt, but this time slick with sweat, hair mussed and plastered all over his forehead. He recoiled at the light.

“Keith,” Shiro said with gritted teeth, “I told you I was busy.” He turned jerkily, but not fast enough to hide the slim band of metal encircling his wrist. It beeped once, condemningly.

The bud of worry now bloomed, snaking through Keith’s chest and body, pinning him straight to the ground. He couldn’t breathe.

“When were you gonna tell me?” his voice came out rough, angry – not the calm questioning he had tried for. It struck him like a physical blow when Shiro flinched. “The illness,” he whispered. “You’re still sick.”

Shiro turned back towards him, not bothering to hide the electro-stimulator around his wrist anymore. He slumped heavily against the table. “I wasn’t,” he muttered.

Keith tried to breathe normally. “You weren’t – ” the note of hurt was creeping back into his tone. “I thought there were no secrets, I thought – I thought you’d tell me if something was wrong.”

His breathing was ragged now, and ice raked up and down his throat, into his lungs. He should have known, how didn’t he realise – he had seen Shiro, impossibly strong Shiro, fallen before Sendak – “What were you going to _do_?”

Shiro laughed lowly, with a hint of bitterness. “I told you before, Keith. I’ve got a few years left. Just enough for me to head this effort, get everything running. Then, who knows, I’ll retire before it gets bad, maybe settle down somewhere where there’re stars at night.”

Keith stared at him incredulously. “You? Settle down?” he questioned. “You were made to fly. You were made for space!”

Shiro looked at Keith bleakly. “I’ll never fly in space again, Keith,” he said. “The Atlas is grounded, except for supply runs, and they’ll be over soon enough. And it’s too dangerous for me to go into space.”

“We’ll fix this,” Keith said desperately. The space between them seemed insurmountable. He wanted to reach out, wanted to touch Shiro, comfort him. His hand stayed weakly by his side. His eyes burned.

Shiro seemed to always know exactly what to do, confident where Keith was awkward. He stepped forward, looping an arm – the human arm – around Keith’s shoulders. “Don’t worry,” Shiro chuckled, drawing him in in a loose hug. “S’not like I’m going to die tomorrow.” He carefully closed the distance, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m not actually an old timer.”

Keith twisted his fingers in the back of Shiro’s shirt. “You’re not an old timer,” he said numbly. “Don’t say that.”

He tried to imagine it – a year or two of _this_ ; then Shiro stepping down, quietly wasting away; dying a slow death. “No,” Keith said, roughly shoving Shiro away. His vision blurred. “No, no, you can’t give up, Shiro,” he rasped out, “you said, you said, you can’t give up on yourself.”

Shiro smiled sadly. “I’ve already made my peace with it, Keith,” he said softly. “You should, too.”

Keith took a step back, and then another, heart hammering in his chest. “I won’t give up,” he spat, and turned on his heel and _ran_.

*

The Atlas sat in the Garrison’s biggest hangar, and, running blind, it was only natural for Keith to carve a path through well-trodden hallways, up and up and up until he was at last gulping in cold, sweet night air by the lungful. The roof of the Garrison was almost the same as he remembered, worn concrete barely changed by the years gone by.

There was another figure on the rooftop. Keith hesitated – he had come here to be alone. The figure turned to him.

“Keith,” Krolia said with surprise. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes flicked over him, her mind no doubt sharply turning over every observation of him with the ease of a practised Blade. Keith wondered what she made of him – a plain black shirt, pants encrusted with dirt, dishevelled and out of breath. He forcefully blinked away the tenderness around his eyes.

“Just came to get some air,” he muttered, hunching and crossing his arms defensively.

“Hm,” Krolia said. Keith came to stand next to her, and at the edge, he closed his eyes, breathing in the air.

Krolia was silent now, and Keith knew she was waiting for him to talk.

“It’s Shiro,” he admitted, and hated how her eyes blinked knowingly. “He’s sick.”

Words continued to fall from his lips, encouraged by the easy familiarity of confiding in Krolia from their time together in the Quantum Abyss. Krolia, for her part, listened attentively, nodding in all the right places, looking thoughtful in others.

“Fly with him,” Krolia said after he was done, voice petering away into nothing. Keith stared.

“He can’t,” he said. “The Atlas isn’t due to – ”

“No,” Krolia interrupted. “Fly with him. In the Black Lion.”

She placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder, Galra warmth blazing through the point of contact. “I know of a planet,” she continued. “Klotho. It is known for its healing springs – water, which can replenish the worthy and pure of heart.”

“I – will it – ” Keith managed, mouth dry. Krolia squeezed his shoulder.

“Take your Shiro to the stars,” she said softly, smiling at the heat that crept up his cheeks, “And leave the rest to me.”

*

“I suppose I have you to blame for this,” Shiro said resignedly, looking up into the mouth of the Black Lion. Keith shouldered his pack determinedly and walked up the ramp.

“You’re coming on a joyride with me,” Keith tried his best authoritative Black Paladin voice. “You’re on leave as of today, Captain.”

Shiro huffed a laugh. In the morning sun, he looked healthy and young – no trace of the pale and drawn face of the day before. His hair ruffled slightly in the breeze. “Pidge’s doing?”

“Matt, actually. Pidge got us permission to take off. And Hunk brought us rations. In case we get hungry.”

Shiro laughed again. “Team effort, huh?”

Keith’s expression grew pinched. “Yeah, we’re a team. You included. Since, y’know, we’re the Paladins.”

“Not anymore,” Shiro said, and his tone was light, but Keith glanced at him sharply anyway.

“We’re the Paladins,” Keith repeated.

“I appreciate this, Keith,” Shiro said earnestly. “I really do. I like that you’re taking me out into space. One final ride before we come back down to Earth. But I’m – ”

Keith ignored that last sentence. “Who said _I’m_ taking you? I’m co-piloting.”

Shiro blinked. “This is Black,” he said slowly, like Keith was being particularly dense. “Your Lion?”

“She’s yours too.”

“Keith,” Shiro said, a pained laugh forcing its way through his throat. “I can’t pilot Black anymore.”

Keith set his jaw stubbornly. “You never tried, after,” he said, taking a few more steps up the ramp. “You were still hurt, so I piloted her back to Earth, and then after that, everything just, just kind of happened. But she’s still yours.”

Silence, then.

“Come on,” Keith snapped, after Shiro still didn’t move. He jumped back down the steps, lithe as a cat, snatching Shiro’s prosthetic arm, and tugged on his hand. Hard.

Inside, Keith watched as Shiro entered the cockpit. The interior was dark, and Keith felt warm at the close familiarity with which Shiro’s hands traced the neck of the chair, the instruments on the dash. He sat down, grasping gently at the controls. The Lion was dark.

Shiro’s fingers tightened. The Lion stayed dark. “Looks like she’s accepted you through and through,” he said, his voice controlled. Keith tried to guess what he was feeling. Frustrated? Sad? Shiro’s body language was barely betraying anything.

Shiro started to rise from his seat, and Keith hooked his fingers around his shoulder, slamming him back down. “You didn’t even try,” he hissed. “You know how to do it. You were the only one who could connect to their Lion at the start. Don’t you – ” he cut himself off, floundering for words that could never come through easy. “Don’t sabotage yourself for other people. Including for – for me.”

Shiro’s tense shoulders drooped under his touch.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Alright.”

His eyes slipped shut, clenched hands loosening around the controls again. His breathing evened out – deep, steady. Keith’s hand remained on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. Keith felt his own breathing slow, in sync with Shiro’s, felt the whole world slow into just the darkened cockpit, just him and Shiro and Black murmuring through their minds –

The cockpit glowed purple as the Black Lion purred to life beneath Shiro’s hands. A low, pleased rumble turned into a mighty roar. Shiro sat back, stunned, as Keith’s grip turned bruising, and a low, startled laugh escaped his open mouth.

“You did it,” Keith said, smiling softly down at Shiro. “I knew you could.”

Shiro didn’t answer, but a boyish grin was slipping its way across his features. With trembling hands, he pushed the controls forward, and Black stormed into the air, spiralling up and up into the sky until they were pushing the bounds of the world. Shiro let out a whoop of pure delight, and tilted, twirling and dancing through the air with a joy Keith hadn’t seen since before the war, since before Kerberos.

Keith leaned forward, clutching at Shiro’s shirt to draw his attention. “C’mon,” he urged. “Go further.”

Shiro obligingly pushed forwards, and the Lion responded instantaneously, leaving the Earth and pushing out into the expanse of space. He sighed dreamily, the stars pinpricks of light reflecting in the pools of his eyes. “Thank you, Keith,” Shiro murmured. He twisted around in the chair, gazing at Keith. “This is the best thing anyone could have done for me.”

Keith licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry. “It’s not over yet,” he said, nudging Shiro’s attention forward again – just in time to see a blinding blue flash of light expand before them.

The smile dropped from Shiro’s face. He gaped at the wormhole. “I – Keith, this wasn’t in the plan, this was just meant to be a quick ride, you never – ”

He dragged at the controls, turning the Lion back towards Earth.

“No!” Keith lunged forward, slamming his palms down across Shiro’s. His fingers were objectively tiny against Shiro’s. Behind him, he felt Shiro draw a sharp intake of air. Black stilled, sensing the conflict between her two Paladins.

“We’re going through,” Keith ordered determinedly. “Allura can’t hold the wormhole forever.”

“Good,” Shiro argued, hands ineffectually flexing under Keith’s. Keith swallowed down the flutter in his chest at the sensation. “We’re going back. Krolia didn’t mention us going anywhere. I didn’t pack anything. The Atlas needs me to – ”

“We’re going through,” Keith repeated stubbornly. “I packed clothes for you. It’s only an extra day or two. And Matt already put in the leave.”

Shiro looked unconvinced.

“I’ll be sad,” Keith said.

Shiro sighed, but then quirked a crooked grin. “No room for argument, huh,” he said. “That’s my Keith.”

Keith grinned back at him, the dim lighting of the cockpit swallowing the flush of his cheeks.

The Black Lion turned once more and flew through the swirling darkness of the wormhole.

*

“The planet Klotho is known for two things, actually – its magnificent ivory towers, and its magical healing pools.” Allura’s smile was fond through the comm screen. “I visited there once with Father, when I was very young. It is truly a beautiful planet.”

Shiro glanced at Keith. “Magical healing pools?” he mouthed, sounding amused, and Keith crossed his arms uncomfortably.

Allura didn’t notice, her gaze turning wistful. “Klotho is also rich in resources, so of course, when the Galra Empire came, it was heavily mined for its riches.”

“It was also one of the first planets freed by the Voltron Coalition,” Shiro noted. He was balancing a datapad in his hand, flicking through information.

“Alongside the Blade of Marmora,” Keith added.

“Yes.” Allura clapped her hands together, a smile coming back to her features. “I have called ahead for you, and I am happy to let you know that you will be warmly received when you arrive.”

After the screen blinked off, Shiro gave Keith a searching look. “Magical healing pools?”

Keith flushed. “Hot springs, actually,” he muttered. “Supposedly with healing properties.”

“Oh, Keith.” Shiro swung around in his chair, catching Keith’s wrist. “There’s nothing on Earth that can heal this, you know. Nothing that Allura could do with all the knowledge of Altean alchemy. You don’t need to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” Keith said hotly, snatching his arm away. “It will work. And even – even if it doesn’t, at least we got to go together, see the sights. Take a break, just the two of us.”

Shiro paused, searching his face again. Keith tried to keep his expression even.

“Just the two of us,” Shiro echoed. The smile was back, playing at the edge of his lips. “I like that.”

Keith let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in, stepped back further out of reach so he wouldn’t do something stupid. The moment passed.

“So how far out are we from this planet anyway?” Shiro asked, peering down at the dash. It didn’t seem to give him any satisfactory answer, so he turned hopefully to Keith.

“Just a day,” Keith mumbled. “We’ll be able to sleep most of it away in the sleep cycle.”

*

Sleep was fleeting, and Keith cursed every god that had let his mother take her mattress off the Black Lion when they had arrived on Earth. Beside him, Shiro shuffled and pulled on the sheets slightly, and Keith’s shoulders tensed further. At the back of his mind, the Black Lion pulsed, a hint of…amusement? _I’m glad you’re finding this funny_ , he grumbled inwardly.

The only interesting thing that had come out of these sleeping arrangements, Keith decided, was that he had learned that Shiro powered down his arm at night, which was just as well, because that oversized hunk of metal was hardly going to fit in the bed between them. And ‘powered down’, of course, didn’t actually mean it was off, but that the clear azure glow of Shiro’s arm was dimmed to a dark wash of low blue. The actual arm was currently on the ground beside the bed. Keith frowned down at it.

As if sensing his thoughts, with a soft whirr, the arm twisted around and its hand waved lazily at Keith. Keith stared.

“I can hear you thinking out loud,” Shiro said, and the arm floated up, patting Keith lightly on the head. Keith went cross-eyed. “What’s up?”

“Put that down,” he grunted, seizing the arm and prying it from his face.

Shiro laughed, but settled his arm down obligingly. His breathing evened out, and for a moment, Keith thought Shiro had fallen asleep.

Shiro shuffled. “I think the Black Lion is trying to talk to me,” he said, yawning. “Laughing in my head.”

Keith closed his eyes. He was wide awake. “Me too,” he mumbled, and pulled the sheet over his face.

*

True to Allura’s word, their arrival was heralded with a flurry of welcoming activity. Shiro expertly piloted the Black Lion into their designated hangar, and when they emerged from the Black Lion they were greeted by a tall, vaguely humanoid alien, with somewhat translucently jade green skin. As Keith stepped down the ramp, he revised his original assessment of ‘tall’ to ‘humongous’. The alien towered over Shiro by at least a head and a half.

“I welcome you, Paladins, to Klotho,” the alien said gravely, his voice a low melodious hum. He spread his arms wide in greeting. “My name is Pelop. Please, follow me.”

“Thank you for the welcome,” Shiro said politely, as they followed Pelop down a long hallway. The Black Lion was restless again. Keith wondered if Shiro could feel it too.

As they walked, Keith looked interestedly around them. From space, the planet had looked like a cloudy purple marble. From the ground, nothing looked purple at all – from the viewports, a lush green forest sprawled across the lowlands, slowly falling away to craggy mountain. Tall, white spires – columns of white, dotted the landscape, reaching high into the sky like oversized Greek columns. The path they were taking seemed to go up, up into the mountains.

“Princess Allura spoke to us about your journey here,” Pelop said as they exited the spaceport, and entered a new sort of building. One of the columns, an ivory tower, Keith supposed, looking up at the vaulted ceiling. “I understand you are interested in the hot springs of Klotho.”

“Very,” Shiro grinned, and Pelop hummed.

“The Galra Empire took much of the magic away from our sacred springs,” he said. “But we rebuild, and we welcome you regardless, as honoured members of the Voltron Coalition.” He laid a long-fingered hand across his lips in thought. “But first, allow me to show you to the quarters we have prepared for you.”

The quarters, as it turned out, was a lavishly decorated room with a single sprawling bed. The room looked peculiarly suited to human taste (and proportions, considering the height of their host).

“Princess Allura spoke to us a little of humans,” Pelop offered by way of explanation, when Shiro looked wryly at him. “We wished to make you comfortable in your visit to our planet.”

Keith rolled his eyes. Allura may have spoken to the aliens, but he’d put money on the bed being Lance’s idea.

Shiro shrugged, apparently satisfied with that answer, and poked further into the room, clearly curious to explore their new surroundings. While he was distracted, Keith moved towards Pelop, who was starting to withdraw from the room.

“About those springs,” Keith coughed. “Please, I need to know. Can they heal illness? Disease?”

Pelop regarded him with unblinking translucent eyes. Keith waited.

“There is some magic left in the springs, yes,” Pelop intoned at last. “It will come for those worthy to wield its power.” He handed Keith something flat – a datapad. “This will guide you to the one we have prepared for you.” 

*

Keith started to question whether this was all a good idea right around the moment Shiro agreed to stop dithering around in their room and actually get to the main course of their visit to Klotho. That questioning began the moment that Shiro flashed him a smile, turned away, pulled his shirt off, and reached for the robe that had come with the walk-in wardrobe.

Keith wordlessly turned around, shakily looking for something to do while Shiro changed behind him. He snatched up the pad Pelop had left him, sightlessly tracing the path to the springs and committing it to memory. He turned off the pad. He didn’t recall a single thing.

Shiro cleared his throat behind him, and Keith looked over. He had finished changing into the robe, which, to Keith’s dismay, clung tightly around his well-built frame.

Keith thrust the datapad into his hands, face red. “Off you go,” he mumbled. “Hope you enjoy.”

Shiro looked at him quizzically, not taking the pad. He scratched his chin. “I thought we were going together,” he admitted. “I mean, wouldn’t it be a waste if you didn’t try the springs after coming all the way out here?”

“Right,” Keith said woodenly, “Of course.” He put the pad back down, forced himself to calmly walk to the closet and begin stripping down. He had been so focused on getting Shiro off-planet, and into the Black Lion, that he was floundering now that he actually _had_ him here. He peeled off his boots, debating whether he could smother himself in the robe before they had to leave the room.

Objectively, Keith knew that Shiro was attractive. He’d known since his Garrison days – he had eyes – but the deep affection Keith held for Shiro went more than just skin-deep – it was something precious, a bond that existed between them and ran so deep, tugging him back again and again, as many times as it would take. Keith could do nothing but fall a little further every day.

“Right, I’m done.” He wrapped his robe tightly around his body and stared resolutely at the door. “Let’s go.”

They walked together in silence. Keith didn’t dare look back at Shiro.

*

The pool that the aliens – Klothorians? – had prepared for them was in an enclosed marble semicircle, the walls made of the same white stone that made up the columns reaching up in the mountains. It was private, which Keith was glad for.

The pool itself was like a small spa, except a with strange pale purple hue that frothed and steamed. The air here was thin – Keith could only guess at the elevation, nestled here in the mountains – but the steam that rolled from the pool made it easy to breathe.

Shiro looked at Keith.

“Well, nothing to it, I guess,” Shiro said, dipping his toes into the water tentatively, then again, more delightedly. “It’s nice!” His gaze flickered to Keith, and his hands moved to his robe.

Keith looked away again, but in the periphery of his vision saw Shiro shuck the robe from his shoulders. He didn’t look back until he heard splashing, Shiro fully submerged beneath the frothy magenta – except for the Altean arm, which had a handful of Shiro’s robe and was carrying it outside of splash range.

Shiro did an experimental backstroke with his human arm, basking in the spring. His white forelock, wet, clung to his forehead. He swiped it away. “S’nice,” Shiro said. “You should come in too.”

“Yeah,” Keith said. He started slipping the robe off, conscious of dark eyes on him – then breathed a sigh of relief as Shiro rolled over lazily in the water, kicking off towards the other side. He took the opportunity he was being given and swiped the rest of the robe off, hurrying into the water.

He sighed as the water washed over him. It was pleasant – the water was heated just so comfortably, the smooth stone beneath his feet emanating warmth, and the steam filled his lungs with clean, pure oxygen. He felt himself relaxing, the tense line of his body giving way to something softer.

“It’s something, isn’t it?”

Keith cracked open an eye – they must have unconsciously slid shut – and looked at Shiro.

“Feels like I could just float in here forever,” Keith confessed. Shiro chuckled.

“Some of that healing magic, maybe,” he said.

Keith looked at him sharply. “That’s not a joke.”

“Keith,” Shiro sighed, leaning back at the edge of the pool. He propped his arm up on the edge, and Keith could see a thick scar running across his chest, white with age.

“I’m serious,” Keith said, sinking down a bit grumpily. “I brought you here to heal. So, heal.”

Shiro barked out a laugh. “I’m not sure that’s how it works, Keith,” he said, his smile brilliant. “But I don’t mind if it doesn’t. You know, I’m kind of just happy I got to spend the time with you.”

“Shiro, I…” Something twisted in Keith’s stomach, and he floated closer, unhappily. “I don’t like it when you talk like that. Like you’re gonna die. It’s not happening. You can’t.”

Shiro tilted his head. “It happens to everyone, Keith,” he said. “Everyone dies eventually.”

Keith’s eyes snapped up. “But not you, not yet!” he hissed. He clenched his hands, the warmth of the pool suddenly feeling stifling hot. “I told you, I’ve saved you before, and I’ll save you as many times as it takes! I can’t – I won’t let you go, not before your time! You can’t leave m- you can’t leave this world, not until you’re old and grey.” His voice grew louder with every word, echoing harshly around the small chamber. Keith flinched at his own voice, choked out a pleaded, “Don’t die, please, Shiro.”

The water was just shy of scalding now. The steam choked his lungs.

Shiro, who looked like he had been about to make another morbid joke, faltered. He reached out, touched Keith’s arm.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I _do_ want to live. I do. But – Keith? What’s wrong?”

It was too hot. Keith stumbled back, slipping on the smooth stone floor. It felt like steam was pushing through the floor, jetting through its cracks like a million fiery geysers, and as Keith wildly scrabbled for balance, he wondered why the steam was _yellow_ , why it was drifting through the purple water like tiny bubbles –

“Keith!” a strong arm grabbed him by the armpits, hauling him up until he stood on his own two feet again. Shiro was standing behind him, and _holding him to his chest_ , and he dazedly tried to look up at him, but Shiro wasn’t even looking his way – he was looking at the water, which was now bubbling and practically glowing with threaded yellow.

“I think…I think that’s quintessence coming through the ground,” Shiro said, sounding awed. The yellow seemed to surge at Shiro’s words, swirling around them both in a hazy halo of light.

“The healing magic,” Keith slurred, the heat making his brain foggy. He pushed the water towards Shiro in cupping motions. “Go on, heal ‘im,” he mumbled, and in the corner of his eye, saw Shiro bite his lip in barely suppressed laughter.

Keith shook his head, trying to cast off the fog. He shifted, moving away from the heat of Shiro’s body, but paused at the sight of his arm pushing off Shiro.

“Shiro, Shiro, the water’s rubbing off on us,” he said in shock, staring at the mottled purple creeping up his arm.

Shiro, who was practically wreathed in gold light, stared back at Keith, and froze.

“What?” Keith said, shaking his arm at Shiro. “Look!”

“I don’t think it’s the water,” Shiro said, and his hand came up, brushing tenderly past his scar, brushing wild and wet hair away from his face, before thumbing carefully across his skin, just below his eye. Keith stilled completely, not daring to breathe.

“Your eyes,” Shiro whispered, and Keith could barely keep his eyelids from flickering shut as Shiro’s thumb traced his cheek, back and forth, and back and forth. “They’re…yellow.”

Keith’s eyes snapped wide open, staring first at the purple still advancing up his arm, then to the rippling water between them. Through the glassy purple reflection, he saw his own eyes, pupils sharpened to slits and sclera bleeding yellow. Shaking, he raised his hand to his face, felt sharpness to his fingertips and the sudden keen presence of _teeth_ in his mouth.

“The…the quintessence,” Keith said, anxiety roiling in his gut. “It’s happened before, the exposure, it makes me…” so _Galra,_ so _alien,_ and Shiro was surely going to drop him any moment now and fall back in horror, so why was – his hand…still on his face?

“I’ve seen you like this before,” Shiro said, swirling closer and touching his face again, his fingertips still impossibly soft. Keith didn’t answer. “You know…when we fought.”

Keith shuddered then, because _that,_ that was a terrible memory to associate with him right now, looking like this, and he prepared to tear himself away, only for Shiro to huddle in even more impossibly closer, his lips inches away from his ear.

“I don’t mind it,” Shiro said softly into his ear, and Keith froze. “I like it, actually.” And then Shiro’s chest was pressed up against him, and his arm was tugging him meaningfully closer, and oh, Shiro’s lips were warm against his own and terribly, terribly soft. With a crackle of power, the Altean arm was there too, smoothing his hair down, winding around him. Keith sighed into the kiss, and gingerly wrapped his arms around Shiro as well.

They stayed like that awhile; pressing soft kisses against each other, quiet murmurs of pleasure. The heat of the pool was nothing to the brilliant line between their bodies, and Keith felt nothing but bliss as the world dissolved around him in an inferno of bright white and yellow.

*

They ran into Pelop on the way back to their quarters, who stared at them with a hint of surprise on his face. His eyes fell onto Keith, who averted his gaze, mindful of the slitted eyes belonging to a race of people who had ravaged the alien’s home planet. Shiro’s arm around his shoulders tightened, but Pelop did not comment on him, but rather, looked Shiro up and down with an appraising eye.

“The magic worked,” he said, sounding pleased.

“The quintessence, you mean,” Shiro corrected gently. Pelop clucked his tongue.

“Magic, quintessence, whichever you call it. It is the life-giving energy, and you were worthy of its power.” His eyes drifted to Keith again. “The Galra mined, yes, but _you_ called it forth.”

*

Keith turned his hands, over and over, dull purple against the blank ceiling. On the bed beside him, Shiro looked on amusedly.

“D’you think it’ll go away?” Keith asked, staring at his hands distractedly. He rolled over towards Shiro, clasping them loosely to his chest. 

“Well, they went away before, didn’t they?” Shiro said gently. He smiled. Wiggled closer. “Relax. Whether or not it goes away, it doesn’t change anything about you. You’re still you. Still Keith.”

Keith gazed at Shiro, tried to pinpoint any signs of illness that lingered on in him. He couldn’t, of course, it was invisible – but still he strained, trying to see past the skin and muscles, trying to stare into Shiro’s soul.

“Keith,” Shiro said. He sounded amused again. “You’re scowling.” His hand, again, lightly stroking between his furrowed brows. “What’s wrong?” 

Shiro was probably the one person in the universe who Keith would let do that.

And Shiro? Shiro looked relaxed, eyes half lidded, long limbs loose without that cast of tension that had been plaguing him in the last month. He looked free, and Keith’s eyes lost their tightness, his face finally breaking into a soft smile.

The Shiro who dreamed of flying, the dying boy who longed to fly amongst the stars, saved by the magic in the stars.

He tangled his fingers with Shiro’s, pressed them against his lips, and knew he’d finally come home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](https://morthael.tumblr.com/) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/anuveon)
> 
> i welcome comments, friends, and more voltron recs please i'm new here


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith and Shiro go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my brain: so how about writing 5000 words of emotional boning?  
> me:  
> me: sounds good brain

Shiro blinked open his eyes sleepily, and couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so light.

He felt boneless and loose-limbed; like he’d had a deep tissue massage sunken into every measure across his entire body. If he concentrated, he thought he could feel a light tingling beneath his skin – the barest whisper of quintessence, the magic that had stitched him back together.

Shiro stretched languorously, relishing the easy way his muscles moved. The stiffness that had been steadily increasing, permeating his sick body since its return from the astral plane was banished, completely.

He had been saved, and now he was here, breathing quiet and easy inside the bedroom inside the Black Lion, and he owed it all to the determined efforts of one very tenacious, very stubborn man.

A gentle smile crossed Shiro’s face, and he laid there for several seconds, allowing himself the luxury long enough to feel the pool of affection deepening within him.

Then, with a grunt, Shiro rolled off the bed, padding over to the door. He called the prosthetic to him with a sharp mental tug and ventured out, a soft _slap_ of his feet against the cool polished floor of the Black Lion.

He reached the cockpit of the Lion with silent grace, resting his bare shoulder against the doorframe.

Keith was at the controls of the Lion, curled up on his chair with one leg hooked upwards, perched on the edge of his seat. He hadn’t noticed Shiro – he was conversing, Shiro realised, with Krolia, whose face was on a small screen up on the dash. They were talking softly, to Shiro’s ears, Krolia hardly intelligible and no more than a quiet, scratchy murmur from Keith’s already low voice.

Shiro leaned further into the doorframe, watched warmly as inky hair slipped too far forward, brushed irritably backwards and tucked behind an ear. Keith’s frame, filled out from years of training and war, shook with a quiet laugh at something Krolia was saying. Shiro smiled with it, trying to commit the sound to memory. God, but it been hard to find reasons to laugh until recently.

The screen clicked off, and Keith yawned, laced his fingers and stretched his arms high above him, twirling around in the pilot’s chair. He saw Shiro, freezing mid-yawn, fingers still interlocked together above his head.

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro said, grinning. Keith’s jaw snapped shut.

“Shiro!”

Keith leapt off the chair, tumbling gracefully towards him. “You’re awake! How long were you standing there?” He stopped right in front of him, added: “I was just finishing a call with Mum.”

From the scant distance between them, Keith had to tilt his face upwards to look at Shiro, his gaze open and unguarded.

The purple in his complexion had, by now, retreated fully, and the violet slits of irises of his eyes had returned to being as human as ever. He wasn’t in his armour – just a loose dark shirt and pants.

“Not long,” Shiro said.

Keith smiled faintly, pushed the heel of his palm against Shiro’s shoulder in a small shove. “You’ve been out for almost an entire day,” he told him. “Not to mention how much you slept planet-side. I could barely wake you up the morning we left Klotho. I practically carried you back to the Black Lion.”

Shiro scratched his cheek with his Altean hand. “I was wondering how I ended up back here,” he admitted. He watched Keith’s fingers curl around the shoulder of his singlet, barely grazing skin and then pulling back, quickly. Shiro watched the quick swallow of his throat.

“Well, you didn’t miss much,” Keith said, and abruptly spun back towards the seat. “We’ve been in space for a while. Not too far until we get to the coordinates Mum sent us.”

“Okay.” Shiro was happy to stand behind Keith as he assumed control over the Black Lion once more. If there had been any tension in his frame, it relaxed as easy, practised confidence took over, and Black purred beneath his fingertips. They soared through space in a graceful arc.

Shiro smiled. _You are great_ , he thought. _Just like I knew you’d be, one day._

Keith glanced distractedly back at him, caught sight of his hopelessly soppy look, and flickered back to the controls quickly. “Are you still tired?” he asked. “I can pilot Black if you need to go back to sleep.”

“Nah,” Shiro said, dropping his hand on top of Keith’s shoulder and giving it an experimental massage. “I think I’ve slept enough.”

Keith twitched beneath his hand. “Oh, right,” he said, looking straight ahead, “d’you want to pilot then, instead?” He started easing off the controls, but Shiro stopped him with another gentle squeeze.

“No,” he said, leaning down. He was amused by the show of avoidance. Was Keith shy? He hadn’t recalled that ever being an issue in the past – but then again. Klotho had been somewhat of an experience.

“’I thought it’d be nice to talk,” Shiro offered. His nose was level with the top of Keith’s head; several wild strands tickled at his face.

“Talk,” Keith repeated. “Okay. What did you want to talk about?”

Shiro summoned his Altean arm around the other side of the chair, strapping Keith in a loose hug across his shoulders against his seat. The tips of Keith’s ears slowly pinked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Shiro said, puffing out a laugh. “There’s lots I could say. Maybe I wanted to thank you, for saving my life, as usual?”

Keith frowned at this, turning his face to Shiro’s. “You don’t need to thank me,” he muttered. “As many times as it takes, remember?” Like a mantra – he said it so earnestly.

Keith’s face was so close to Shiro’s; he felt his warm breath ghosting across him. He brought his human hand up, cradling Keith’s cheek gently, ruefully touching the scar.

Keith was still, and Shiro closed the distance, pressing softly against Keith’s mouth, his hand weaving through his hair. Keith’s mouth fell open, and as Shiro’s eyes blinked open he saw his hands, still curled around the controls, go rigid in shock. Then Keith’s breath stuttered, his shoulders pulling taut against Shiro’s arm. Shiro pulled back, and Keith was staring at him wide-eyed, breathing shakily.

Shiro swallowed. “No?” he said, when Keith didn’t move. He frowned, moving back again, putting more distance between them. This was a mistake then, he shouldn’t have –

“No,” Keith rasped out, seizing a fistful of Shiro’s singlet. “Don’t go.” His other hand let go of the controls, rising to tentatively skim the fingers tangled in his hair.

Shiro exhaled. “I thought you didn’t want me to,” he said, now uncertain. Keith squeezed his eyes shut, more heat blooming across his cheeks.

“No, I do,” Keith managed out, “But I just, I didn’t know _you_ wanted to.” There was an upward lilt at the end of his sentence, and a rushed, “that you wanted _me_.”

Shiro stared.

Keith wet his lips.

“I held you in a pool naked,” Shiro said incredulously. “I kissed you while we were naked, in a pool.” 

Keith’s cheeks flamed red. “I thought you were…” his eyes darted about, casting around. “Comforting me?” The words came out slightly high pitched. “Since I was…kind of…losing it back there?”

Shiro wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Keith,” he said in amazement. “You are really not very observant.”

He tugged the Altean arm closer, still pressing against Keith’s chest. Keith swallowed.

“Just tell me. Do you want me to kiss you now?”

“Yes,” Keith said instantly, “I have for years,” Shiro’s heart thudded shallowly in his chest. “But,” he added, nervously, “I hope this isn’t just a thank-you for, um, helping you o – mmph!”

Shiro kissed him again, firmly, and this time, Keith melted into it, sagging in relief. His lips parted, and Shiro pressed in, carefully licking into his mouth. His tongue was joined a moment later by Keith’s, tentatively flicking up to taste him, and then snatching back in surprise.

Shiro withdrew with a wheeze, coughing out a laugh. He smothered it on the slope of Keith’s shoulder, breathing in and smelling the scent of _home_ and _right_ in the dark fabric rubbing against his nose.

“Stop that,” Keith said hotly, the hand clenched in Shiro’s shirt knocking sharply against his sternum. Air whooshed out of Shiro in surprise, and Keith took the opportunity to surge upwards, arms braced against Shiro’s shoulders, pushing him back and back until his back hit the wall, and there Keith trapped him, pulling his face down and crashing into him. His tongue lashed out against Shiro’s in revenge, sloppy and unpractised but perfect, and when he drew back for air, Shiro was panting, his lips slick with spit.

“For years?” Shiro breathed, drinking in Keith’s flushed face with wonder, the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

Keith nodded wordlessly, and crested against him again. Shiro's eyes fluttered shut, and he let Keith fall into him, nose bumping into his, hands and fingers twisting impossible creases into his shirt. His pulse was erratic; his skin was hot.

Back at the pool, the shock of the quintessence and Keith’s panic at his transformation had been enough to quell any inappropriate thoughts that could have arisen. Now, Shiro thought dimly, as Keith enthusiastically licked into his mouth, now, he was losing control over his body all over again, but in a good – an _amazing_ way, actually – Shiro groaned, and pulled Keith closer, a hand drifting down to the worn hem of his black shirt and grasping Keith’s hip.

Keith broke the kiss, pulling back with a hitched breath as Shiro's hand travelled up firm skin, bumping up the planes of his muscles before coming to a stop splaying against his chest. “Shiro,” Keith breathed, falling into him, twisting in his grasp, and Shiro felt it then, hot hardness pressed up against his thigh.

Shiro’s arm tightened around Keith as he shifted and arched, mouth insistently upon him again. This kiss was rougher, demanding, and Shiro found himself leaning back, breathless. Keith followed his mouth, hips rolling against him in stuttered, half-aborted motions. Shiro clutched at him, heat shooting through his body at the sensation.

“Slow down, hotshot,” Shiro gasped out against Keith’s messy kisses, automatically rocking up. Keith ignored him, licking greedily into his mouth.

 _Stars,_ he was eager. “S’been too long, huh?” Shiro ground out, voice gravel, and Keith shoved his hands up his shirt.

Shiro felt like he had been jolted by electricity as Keith’s fingers first cautiously grazed his skin, then with more confidence, dragged up and down his chest in a touch that sent shivers curling down his spine, all the way into the heat trapped in his pants. 

“Never done this before,” Keith breathed, rocking into him, then leaned in to lick a broad stripe across Shiro’s throat. Shiro choked. “M’first kiss, too,” he mumbled, muffled against Shiro’s neck.

Shiro stuttered to a stop. “What?”

Keith reared back, glowering. “What?” he said, and his eyes were wild, set against his sweaty, flushed face. “’S’that not good enough for you?”

He had a defiant tilt to his chin but his face looked pinched, and Shiro cringed, easing his hands from underneath Keith’s shirt to touch his face again.

“No,” he said, vehemently, “no, you’re more than just good enough, Keith.” He ran a thumb across Keith’s jaw. “I was just – I had no idea.” After a moment, Shiro thought ruefully – between the Garrison, the year spent alone in the desert, and then the war, there shouldn’t have been a reason to be surprised. He peeled himself from the wall, pushing a gentle kiss against Keith’s lips. “You’re perfect.”

Keith’s pinched expression smoothed out, and Shiro slid forwards, burying his nose in the junction between Keith’s neck and shoulder. He could feel Keith’s smile against his face, felt him adjust his hands on Shiro’s chest, trying surreptitiously to wipe the clammy sweat that had gathered on his palms. They breathed like that for moments, the rocking of their bodies against each other forgotten momentarily.

As he held Keith in his arms, Shiro marvelled at the way his Altean hand could encircle almost halfway around Keith’s slim waist. He traced soft circles into his hips, listening to Keith’s sharp breathe, only pausing when Keith grasped his wrist.

“Keith?” Shiro said questioningly as Keith drew back. He had this intense sort of look in his eyes, one that usually heralded him jumping into danger without a plan, and as his gaze met Shiro’s he seemed to come to a decision. Disentangling himself from Shiro’s arms, he swiftly knelt down, pushing Shiro back against the wall, and tugged hard at the hem of Shiro’s loose sleep pants.

“Fuck, you’re big,” Keith muttered, and Shiro could barely get a snarky word out before Keith was all over him, plunging down sloppily. Shiro choked out a moan as blood rushed downwards, and Keith hollowed his cheeks and it was all he could do not to buck into the searing heat wrapped around his length. Trembling, he palmed at Keith’s fringe, grasping and pulling it up and winding his fingers into the mess of hair on top of his head.

It was objectively not the most expert blowjob he had received, Shiro thought dimly somewhere in the depths of his swirling mind – no, it was too wild, uncoordinated, and wet, with drool dripping from Keith’s chin, but Keith approached it with clear, eager passion, and as Shiro’s fingers tightened unconsciously in his hair, Keith’s eyes flickered up, and Shiro sucked in a muffled gasp at that slitted gaze, hazy yellow and fiery violet pinning him with intensity.

“God, just like that,” Shiro said throatily, “just like that, Keith, so, so good,” his breath was coming in hitched gasps. Keith’s eyes closed and he somehow, impossibly, pushed deeper onto Shiro, taking him all the way to the base, and Shiro let out a gargled curse. His knees felt weak, and Keith was still taking him, and he was nothing but a quick learner, rhythm evening as his jaw grew accustomed to the stretch. Shiro was halfway to heaven.

“Keith, Keith, stop,” Shiro said weakly, pushing with hand trapped in the strands of Keith’s fringe.

Keith faltered, slowed, and reluctantly drew back, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked up at Shiro. “Not good?” he said hoarsely, and frowned, rubbing at his jaw.

“No, no,” Shiro was probably harder than he had ever been in his life, “you were perfect, I just…” he slid down the wall, eye level with Keith, “I wasn’t gonna last, the way you were going.”

“Oh,” Keith said, a smile flickering across his mouth. A few moments, and then: “Me neither.”

Shiro glanced down at Keith’s pants. He suddenly had to clear his throat.

“Right,” he said after he was sure his voice would come out even. “Want to take this somewhere else?”

Keith looked conflicted. “Or I could just keep sucking you off here?” he suggested a bit hopefully. He reached for Shiro.

Shiro had to clear his throat again. Keith’s eyes were hazy with want.

“No,” he said finally, and, after tucking himself back into his pants, reached out, heaving Keith into his arms and rising to his feet. “I think we can have some more fun somewhere else.”

“Shiro!” Keith exclaimed, as Shiro easily carried him out of the cockpit. “I can walk!”

“Not for long, baby,” Shiro winked, sounding surer than the pulse jumping in his throat was making him feel, but it was worth it to see the stunned silence fixing Keith’s face in consternation.

*

Despite his earlier moment, Keith wasted no time in breaking out of Shiro’s hold once they reached the bedroom, ripping off his shirt and shoving Shiro down onto the bed. Seconds later, he was crawling on top of Shiro, insistently tugging at his singlet until Shiro obligingly raised his arms. Keith tore it off with what was almost a _growl_ , and Shiro could only stare.

“Wow, Keith,” he managed, before Keith grabbed his arms and slammed them onto the mattress, pinning his hands and straddling his stomach.

Panic flooded him, and Shiro instinctively struck out, tearing his arms against Keith’s bruising grip until Keith let go, rearing back in surprise. The yellow in his eyes flickered back to white.

Shiro swallowed, his heart racing overtime, and groaned. “Sorry,” he croaked out.

“No, no,” Keith assured him, and after a moment of hesitation, swung his leg off Shiro, settling onto the bed proper. Shiro missed the warmth against him already. “I’m sorry,” Keith mumbled, the apology wrung from his lips like foreign words. “I think it’s best if you, um, take charge.”

Shiro rose onto his elbows, gazing at Keith who looked a bit defeated, but still raised a hand, tracing a finger gently across his chest. Shiro looked down; his finger was touching the line of the scar on his chest. His gaze drifted downwards, to the litany of scars that dotted and crossed his bare body. His face twisted a bit, but shaking himself, he caught Keith’s hand as he rose upwards, pushing him gently down onto the bed on his back.

Keith was smooth to his touch, a pale slash adorning at the slope of his neck where he had been wounded in the Trials, a few old scratches here and there – and of course, the burn striped across his cheek. Shiro regretfully pressed a kiss there, and then to Keith’s open mouth, pausing as Keith’s hands came up, stroking at the scar on his chest again, then up and down his stomach.

“God,” Keith mumbled, “you’re hot.” He was shifting beneath him, hips moving impatiently against Shiro’s leg.

Shiro sucked in a ragged breath and left Keith’s mouth, dipping lower, his nose grazing warm skin and _lower,_ until his lips closed around a nipple. He dragged his tongue across the tip, flicking back and forth, and was rewarded when Keith stiffened and cried out, and then immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes huge.

“Shiro,” Keith choked out, as Shiro swirled his tongue around, his hand coming up to play with the other nipple, rubbing and touching until Keith was gasping, arching into Shiro’s mouth and fingers and throwing his head back into the sheets. “Shiro!”

Shiro raised his head long enough to look down, tugging Keith’s pants down and trapping his legs together between his thighs. He reached down, curled a hand around him, pumping lazily up and down as he returned his attention to Keith’s chest. Keith jerked, soft, small sounds the shape of Shiro’s name falling from his lips as he bucked. His eyes flashed gold in the dim lighting of the room and his fingernails, sharp as claws, clutched at the sheets. His reactions were addictive, spurring Shiro on.

“Doing so well for me, Keith,” Shiro groaned out against his chest, grinding his hips into the lean whipcord of muscle that was Keith’s thigh. Keith, in between Shiro’s mouth and hands, helplessly twisted at the words and moaned and shuddered as he came.

Shiro crawled up Keith’s body, pressing soft kiss after soft kiss against his blissful face as he pumped his hand to Keith’s release, fondly taking in his slack jaw and loose, unfurrowed brow. He pressed a kiss there, too.

Keith’s eyes opened after a minute, his body coming to with a shudder. “Shiro,” he breathed, a rough whisper. He gingerly touched his nipple, and squirmed. Shiro melted, falling on top of Keith – heedless of the mess between their bodies – and cuddled closer.

“God, that was good,” Shiro said, stroking back the hair sticking to Keith’s forehead tenderly. His erection strained against his pants, but he wanted to hold Keith, press kisses into his hair as he drifted off. He shuffled his legs, adjusting himself.

“Nngh,” Keith said. He was pushing at Shiro’s chest, with an urgency that Shiro didn’t think was reasonable for someone who had just come all over himself, but he supposed it wouldn’t be Keith if he wasn’t singularly contrary at all times.

“Your turn, c’mon, Shiro,” Keith was saying. He shook his shoulder. Shiro squinted at him.

“I thought we were done,” Shiro said. With a groan, Keith kicked at him as much as he could with his legs trapped together, and when Shiro finally rolled off, he shoved his own pants down and off.

“Fuck me,” Keith demanded.

Shiro flamed red. “But you just – ”

“I know what I said.”

Shiro gulped. He was painfully hard. “O-oh,” he said, “well, we’ll need to prepare for that.”

Keith, gritting his teeth, pointed at a battered blue duffel bag lying in the corner of the room. Shiro, following his gaze, concentrated. With a low crackle of blue energy, his Altean arm launched towards the bag, rummaging for a moment before returning with a sleek bottle.

“…Were you expecting something to happen on this trip?” Shiro asked bemusedly as his arm rocketed back to its standard position. He popped the cap and squeezed, dropping the rest back onto the bed, and settled between Keith’s legs.

Keith hunched. “You know how all the others helped out with getting us off Earth?” he said.

“Yes?”

“The bag was Lance’s addition,” he muttered.

Shiro, whose hand had been halfway up Keith’s thigh, snorted a laugh. Keith’s face, which was locked in a grimace, wavered before he, too, cracked a small smile.

The smile broke off at once as Shiro’s fingers reached his entrance. His body, propped up on his elbows, tensed up all over.

“You have to relax,” Shiro told Keith gently. He leaned forwards, kissing his lips encouragingly, patiently waiting as the tension drained away.

He pressed inwards with a single finger. Keith's mouth fell open at the intrusion, and he tilted his face, eyes half closed. He was hard, straining against his stomach.

From the angle, Shiro could see sharp teeth barely hidden by his pretty mouth – he surged forwards, kissing and licking at Keith’s lower lip as he stretched him on his fingers, now two, rubbing in and out of that tight heat.

Keith's arms shook with the effort of holding his body up; Shiro pressed him down gently with the Altean arm, but firmly, and soon there were three fingers inside while Shiro curled his hand around his erection.

Keith had been making quiet noises with each movement of Shiro’s fingers, but with _just_ the right angle and a crook of his fingers, he gasped, clenching around him.

“Shiro,” he said, “Stop, do it now, m’not going to last –”

Shiro licked his lips. He had been watching Keith's face, his body stretched out like a bowstring on Shiro’s fingers, his hands grasping at the sheets beneath them.

“You sure?” he said, but Keith’s legs were already hooking around his waist, reeling him in like a sucker (and he was, for Keith, only Keith).

Shiro eased his fingers out, with a discontented murmur from Keith, and quickly stripped out of his pants. A hum of energy, and the bottle was back in his hands, and then he was stroking himself. A tiny hesitation, and then he lined himself up against Keith, the tip pressing against his entrance.

“Why,” Keith hissed through gritted teeth, as Shiro eased in, “is your dick – so – fucking – huge?” The last few words were punched out as Shiro pressed the head through.

Shiro huffed. “You already knew how big it was,” he said petulantly, “considering you just sucked on it. Moments ago.”

It didn’t look like he was listening though – Keith’s eyes were, and he looked overwhelmed. With great force of will, Shiro stilled. “You okay, baby?”

A tiny sound left Keith’s lips, but he was relaxing, nodding. Shiro nudged forward experimentally.

Keith threw out a hand. “Fuck! Stop!”

Shiro stopped immediately.

“Keith – are you alright? What do you need me to do?” Shiro was leaning over him. Keith’s eyes were squeezed shut, and Shiro was ready to abort and withdraw –

“No, wait!” Keith said, clutching his human arm. “Just give me a moment.”

Keith let go, and his hand drifted down, touching and coaxing himself to full hardness. His back arched and Shiro, half-buried inside Keith, manfully held back a whimper. “God, you look amazing, Keith,” he said hoarsely.

“You can – move again,” Keith said. His voice was husky, and he was staring up at Shiro now, defiance and determination in equal measures on his flushed face.

Shiro gingerly pressed forward again, resisting every urge screaming at him to snap his hips forward into the burning tightness. He was on _fire_ with the drag of his length inside Keith, inch by excruciating inch until he was fully seated inside him, overwhelmed by the close heat trapping him. He collapsed forward, arms and elbows cradling Keith’s head

Keith was staring down at the join of their bodies, his legs hitched on top of Shiro’s thighs. “Oh god,” he said, a little wildly.

Shiro kissed him, and Keith responded eagerly, legs curling around him. As Shiro drew back, Keith grabbed his shoulders with razor sharp fingertips, drawing him down again and burying his head in Shiro’s chest. “ _Move_ ,” he demanded, his voice cracking.

Shiro moved, pulling out slowly and thrusting shallowly back in, listening to Keith’s whine as he withdrew and the punch of his breath as he filled him again. Keith’s voice was raw, and he was twisting beneath Shiro, unrestrained honesty painted across every line of his body as he moved and shuddered and moaned.

Shiro rose up on his arms again, started moving faster. Keith cried out at this new angle, his hands sliding off Shiro’s shoulders to claw down his chest and arm. Shiro’s thrusts were rougher now; Keith completely pliant around his length and punching out a shaky moan with every drive of Shiro’s hips against his body.

It was too much – all the teasing, and sloppy touches, and now the tight heat of Keith’s body – it spurred Shiro on, rocking in and out of Keith’s body, nosing into his sweaty hair, and he had already been close, but then he drove down and hit something that made Keith arch upwards screaming.

“Keith – Keith, I’m – ” _Close,_ he wanted to say, and Keith seized him by the shoulders and hooked him in close. His body writhed with every thrust. His head pressed against him jerkily, nose digging into his chest and gulping in his scent – his chest, his neck, his shoulders.

“Shiro,” Keith gasped, and Shiro fell apart.

The rhythm of his hips stuttered as he came, moaning out incomprehensibly the shape of Keith’s name as he pulsed inside him. Keith clenched around him and trembled apart, spilling onto his stomach. His face was shiny with sweat and spit around his bitten-red lips. His fingers dug into Shiro’s back, pinpricks that Shiro barely felt as he watched Keith paint himself with his release.

God, Shiro was so lucky. He leaned down, pressing a kiss against Keith’s open mouth, as he slowly eased out. Keith let out a distorted noise, halfway between a moan and a sigh, and his legs reluctantly loosened from their steely grip around Shiro.

Shiro carefully laid down beside Keith, winding his human arm across Keith’s chest. The Altean arm floated off towards Lance’s bag, and returned a moment later, towel in hand. He carefully passed it over Keith’s chest and stomach, and then between themselves. “Mm,” Keith said, sounding half-there. He turned to Shiro with lidded eyes. “That’s handy…”

Shiro threw the towel away and sat up. “How are you feeling?” he said.

“I don’t think I can move my lower body,” Keith admitted, and Shiro looked guiltily down. He saw a bead of his come trailing from Keith’s entrance.

“Oh god,” he said, running a hand over his face. “I am so, so sorry.”

He started mumbling more apologies, but Keith, against all odds, turned and heaved himself up, crawling into his lap. More come, and he could feel it against his leg. He went red.

“Was it good?” Keith breathed against his ear. Shiro clutched his waist weakly. He was ruined for anyone but Keith.

“I think it was a bit too good,” Shiro mumbled. He was weak to Keith, and Keith…Keith was an enabler. He had to be careful.

“Shiro?” Keith asked.

Shiro hummed, pulling Keith onto his lap a bit more solidly, enjoying the way Keith twined his arms around Shiro’s neck.

“Can I fuck you next time?”

Shiro jerked. “Keith!”

Shiro stared at him in disbelief, beet red. Keith blinked at him.

“What?” he said, a bit defensively. Heat crept up his cheeks. “I just thought, you know, that it felt really good for me, and – I thought, well maybe you also might wanna – ?”

Shiro buried his face in Keith’s chest. “Yes Keith,” he said hoarsely. “I do.” It would make sense, of course, Shiro thought, for Keith to be more worried about Shiro’s pleasure than chasing his own need.

“Also,” Keith interrupted. Shiro reluctantly drew back from their loose hug. Keith was bright red now, and his finger played nervously across his collarbone. Shiro made an inquisitive noise.

“I’m really fucking sorry about this,” Keith blurted, and pointed at Shiro’s arm. Shiro blinked, looking down. Lurid red lines were scrawled down his bicep and forearm and chest. He twisted slightly in surprise, feeling a similar sting down his back. 

“Uh…” he said, and he didn’t realise it was possible for Keith to go redder. “It’s fine,” he said quickly, and quirked a grin. “I’ve had worse.”

Keith made a face, half pained and half disgusted by Shiro’s poor taste, but relented in the end, snuggling in closer, drawing his hand up Shiro’s arm with a whisper of touch in apology.

Shiro laid them both down, curling into Keith’s warmth, tangling their limbs together.

“Keith…” he said, and he could only hope his voice conveyed the true extent of love he had for the man tucked against his chest. “Thank you.”

The words barely needed to be said, but he said them anyway, curling closer; three hushed syllables mouthed with reverence against the warm skin of Keith’s temple.

*

They reached the coordinates Krolia had sent, the wormhole blooming outwards and drawing the Black Lion in. Shiro surveyed the stars as they exited, searching for the blue marble that was Earth. He didn’t find it.

“Keith?” Shiro said, because he absolutely knew Keith was responsible for this. “Where are we?”

Keith gently swung his chair around, reached out and touched Shiro’s jaw with a tender gentleness before sliding down. The stars around them were bursting with cosmic dust and colour.

“We’re home,” Keith said. “Right here, right where we are.”

His hand was warm over Shiro’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> THANKS FOR READING


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